5. Chapter Five
Rachel
I bounce in my seat as the wheels touch the ground, the movement stirring me from my sleep. My eyes flutter open, and there in front of me is Vaughn sleeping with his head angled in a weird position. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in such a vulnerable state. His eyes are shut tight, and I notice the long, full lashes—a feature any woman would envy. My heart melts at the sight, and a part of me wants to reach out and cradle him near my chest.
I tap his knee instead, waking him from his sleep. Vaughn jerks forward and wipes his face with his hand. Our eyes meet. There is a look of confusion on his face as he stares at me, completely disoriented. I try to hide my amusement, but my lips curve upward in a smirk. He finally recognizes where he is and falls back into his chair with a loud sigh.
“Are we here yet?” he asks in a gravelly voice.
“Yes, we are.”
“Right,” he replies, pressing his fingers against his temple. Another sigh escapes his lips as he massages his temple.
I immediately reach into my handbag and present an aspirin bottle. “You have a headache?”
“Yeah.”
I stretch the bottle out in front of me, but he waves it away.
“Water,” he grumbles, trying to get up from his seat.
I imagine he’s parched, given that he’s been asleep all three hours of the flight.
“Just wait a minute, Mr. Vaughn. Once the plane comes to a stop—”
He doesn’t listen to me and tries to get out of his seat. The plane jerks forward as it comes to an abrupt stop, and Vaughn lurches forward, falling on me.
“Ugghhh,” I cry out as we try to untangle from each other’s embrace.
“Christ!” he yells out.
“Sir, remain in your seat until the plane stops,” I cry out in frustration as he gets off me.
“Why is there no water right here?” He points to the cup holder.
I stay silent, not understanding why he would expect me to have water in the cup holder at all times, especially given the level of turbulence we often face on the plane. That is the thing about Vaughn. He always somehow expects everything to work as he plans, and if there is even a chance he can’t get what he wants, he is willing to burn everything down.
“Why?” His voice rises.
“Sorry, sir,” I reply, lowering my head even though I don’t feel sorry at all.
“I—”
The pilot comes into the cabin with a smile on his face. “We have arrived, sir,” he says, clapping his hands together as he speaks. “It was an uneventful flight, I hope.”
“Not when I almost fell on my face,” Vaughn hisses at him.
I roll my eyes slightly. Not Vaughn making it the pilot’s fault for getting up during a landing.
“Is something wrong?” The pilot looks at him with bunched eyebrows before turning to look at me.
“Yes, what manner of landing was that?”
“Landings can be very tricky. That is why we ask you to—”
“You know what? Never mind. Everybody has an excuse to give.”
He gets up from his seat and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge before storming off. The pilot gives me a curious look. I shrug my shoulders and grab my handbag. Vaughn takes long strides as we cross the tarmac. I scurry after him, trying to keep up. Vaughn’s hands rest casually in his pocket, his sunglasses still perched on his face even though the dim airport lights don’t require them—a small disguise to keep the fans at bay.
I exhale softly, my body relaxing now that the jet ride is over and we’re almost at the car waiting outside. Vaughn turns back and looks at me. I start jogging immediately; he’s most likely about to give me a new set of instructions. I have just closed the gap between us when it happens.
The gentle humming of voices in the airport gives way to loud screaming and a thunder of footsteps. A crowd of fans rush toward us, shouting and waving jerseys, others holding up phones to capture the moment. My heart sinks into my stomach as I realize what’s happening.
“Oh my God! Marry me, Vaughn!” a female voice yells from the crowd.
“Sign my jersey!” another yells, holding up his jersey, eyes wide with excitement.
“Rachel!” Vaughn turns back to look at me, his voice low and tense. “What is the meaning of this?”
My stomach twists into knots. This isn’t right. We are supposed to head straight to the car. No detours, no public appearances. I am clear about that. I look over at Vaughn and open my mouth, but the words do not come out. The crowd has now pooled behind mesh netting, stopping them from spilling onto the tarmac.
Two of the bodyguards who must have been waiting by the car start running toward us.
“Who did this?” His gaze narrows.
“I have no idea.”
“What do you mean you have no idea? You are my assistant. You are meant to be ahead of everything. It is your duty to make sure nothing goes wrong!”
“I made sure everything was in order, but—”
“Then who keeps setting me up for the paparazzi? How can I be sure that you are not selling my location to people?”
“What?” My face burns from his accusation.
The two bodyguards arrive and form a barricade between us and the incoming crowd. Just as we are standing there, a woman appears with a wide grin on her face. She is wearing a jersey, and her hair is tied back in a bun.
“Welcome, Mr. Vaughn. We were expecting you.”
“Expecting me?” Vaughn is taken aback.
“Yes, we are doing a fundraiser, and all the people here are dying to meet you.”
“A fundraiser?” Vaughn quips, turning to look at me. “What is the meaning of this? Who organized this without even asking me first?”
I turn to the young lady and eye her with a look of disgust. “How did you know that Vaughn would be here today?”
“We got the information, and I am so glad that it turned out to be true.” Her eyes twinkle as she stares at Vaughn in awe.
“What information?” I ask, fuming at the possibility that someone has told other people that we are coming. Someone I can safely assume is his greedy agent, who would take any deal just to make himself a profit. A part of me wants to shake the woman vigorously until she tells me how she learned of our arrival. “Who gave you this information?”
She doesn’t respond to me and instead focuses on Vaughn. “We are doing it for the orphaned children. It is nothing serious, just a few signings of shirts and maybe a donation, if you will.” She ends with a smile.
“For the kids, huh?”
“Yes, for the kids. We have a few ill kids at the cancer center, too, who need money for treatment. We raised some money by selling the jerseys after we promised you would sign them.”
Vaughn takes another look at me and then pinches his nose in frustration.
“I guess helping the kids will always come first,” he responds with resignation.
“Wait, we—” I try to protest, attempting to remind him that we have a meeting scheduled in about two hours.
“Go on, Ms. . . .” Vaughn cocks his head as if trying to remember her name.
“Laurie!” she blurts out enthusiastically.
“Laurie! Beautiful name for a fine lady.” He grins. “Well, I would never turn down a request to do good for the kids. I’ll be right there.”
Laurie’s face turns red, revealing yellow-stained teeth. “Thank you,” she mumbles before turning away.
“We have the meeting with the Campbells. We don’t have any more time to waste as it is.”
He takes a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerously calm whisper. “You should have thought of that before setting up a fundraiser at an airport.”
“I didn’t—” I start, but he cuts me off again.
“You didn’t what? Do your job? The gross irresponsibility.” He shakes his head, letting out a harsh breath.
His words feel like a punch to the gut. Irresponsibility? I’ve been running myself ragged, managing his schedule, juggling meetings, fan appearances, and his absurdly unpredictable moods for months. I haven’t missed a single detail, but he never misses the opportunity to undermine my efforts.
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the flood of frustration threatening to spill over. Vaughn turns on his heel and starts marching toward the crowd; the bodyguards follow him, leaving me standing there.
“Vaughn!” I call after him, but he doesn’t stop. My fists clench at my sides as I watch him walk away, his shoulders stiff, his back straight, like I didn’t just call his name. As he approaches the crowd, the fans go wild, pushing and shouting and holding their jerseys. Vaughn forces a smile and waves at them. God, I hate him . For a minute, I think of quitting on the spot, just walking away and hailing a cab home. But looking for a job right now was worse than hell; even if I did find one, it wouldn’t pay me as much as Vaughn pays.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Hello?”
“Rachel! Is Vaughn at the signing yet?” a squeaky voice blasts through the phone.
“What?”
“It’s Raphael.”
“I know it’s you, Raphael. What signing?”
Vaughn’s agent, Raphael, irritates me just as much as Vaughn does, especially this high-pitched voice of his.
“The jersey signing for the orphans at the airport.”
“So it was you, after all!” I hiss.
“Is he—”
I hang up and slide the phone into my back pocket. I have had enough nonsense for one day.